


Moonshine, A Red Suit, and the Cold Chicago Wind

by fishisinlimbo



Series: Vampires [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: 1920s, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Biting, Choking, Degradation, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Italian Mafia, Speakeasies, Vaginal Sex, Vampire Bites, Vampire Sex, Vampire Turning, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-07
Updated: 2020-11-07
Packaged: 2021-03-09 06:07:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27429922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fishisinlimbo/pseuds/fishisinlimbo
Summary: A young human Midas meets a suave, handsome man named Dryden in a speakeasy in 1925 on a cold Chicago night.  It turns out this man is more than what he seems to be, and one, seemingly innocent hookup turns into a life-changing experience.  Midas's long vampire life begins in this erotica set in an alternate, vampire-inhabited universe where the human side of the Italian Mafia rules the day, and the vampire side rules the night.  Much more to come, even after the two of them do!
Relationships: Midas Well/Dryden Vitale
Series: Vampires [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2004010
Comments: 4
Kudos: 6





	Moonshine, A Red Suit, and the Cold Chicago Wind

1925, Chicago

Every night was a cold night in Chicago, especially this time of year, but the wind whipped at Midas’s bobbed, curly brown hair and long skirts as she slipped from the truck seat to the ground. She pulled her knee-length coat tight about her, taking a deep breath as the frosty air stung her eyes and chilled her from nose to lungs. From the truck bed, she grabbed a case of moonshine, and then a second, leaving the rest and making her way down the steps to the speakeasy slowly and carefully. She set the cases down on the landing as she rapped at the door, knocking five times, then pausing, then three more. The slat at eye level slid open, a pair of brown eyes meeting her own green eyes. Midas smiled sheepishly.

“Can’t see the moonlight from down here, can you?” It was cheesy, but it was code, and required to get inside, even though she had a delivery for the establishment. The doorman grunted and slid the slat closed before opening the door to her. Heat rushed from the interior as she picked the cases of alcohol back up and made her way inside to set them against the wall as instructed.

“He’ll help you with the rest,” the doorman grunted, before sitting down in a chair beside the door, opening up a magazine and going back to what Midas could only assume he had been doing before she’d interrupted him.

The man he’d gestured to had been sitting at the bar when he’d been called upon, and was now standing and drawing his jacket, of a high-quality red material, over himself. He smiled at her as he walked over.

“That’s a lot of alcohol for one girl,” he said, and the two of them walked outside and up the steps together. His dark brown hair had been slicked back at some point that day, but strands were starting to fall out of place, gracing his forehead. He wore a white shirt under the red jacket and matching red vest, with a black bowtie loose about his neck. His shirt and red trousers had barely a wrinkle in them, and his black shoes were often shined, Midas could tell. He held himself as a man of status would, with his shoulders back and his chin up. His smile, almost a smirk really, stayed on his face as she examined him.

“I make do,” she said softly in response, and reached into the bed of the truck once more to pull two more cases out. He did the same, pulling three into his own arms.

“Surely a girl of the Family wouldn’t be tasked with such heavy labor under normal circumstances,” the man pressed. He had guessed, but he had guessed correctly.

“I must do what is best for my own family,” she cautioned, unsure now of how much to tell him. They walked back down the steps, stacked the cases, and then back up once more.

“Dryden Vitale,” the man said as they reached the truck a second time. He held his hand out for her to shake. She took it firmly.

“Midas Lombardo,” she returned. Her name surely gave away her connection to the Italian Mafia and Al Capone himself, who ran the mob in this part of Chicago, but as he’d guessed it already, she felt it unfair to keep her surname from him. Though perhaps he had similar connections, having an Italian name and look to him himself...

Dryden took her hand in both of his and lifted it to his lips, kissing the back of it softly. That smile never left his face.

“It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Ms. Lombardo. Midas, if I may.” Midas face was flushed, though now not solely from the cold.

“You may, but only if you help me unload fast enough so that we don’t freeze ourselves next to the truck.” She wrapped her coat tight around her again, shivering already. Dryden didn’t look bothered by the chill at all.

But he chuckled and nodded. “Of course, of course.” And the two of them proceeded to empty out the truck bed, requiring only one more trip after that before they were able to sit inside the speakeasy and warm themselves.

Dryden ordered two glasses of moonshine over to the table they’d settled at. Midas slid her coat off and over the back of the chair to try to get some warmth to reach her skin and her core. When the moonshine arrived, she drank some, grateful to quench her thirst.

“Tell me, Midas,” Dryden began, swirling the moonshine around his glass, watching it, and then his eyes flicked up to her, “what is a girl… like  _ you _ … doing in a place… like  _ this _ …?” There was something about the way he said it, the words he put emphasis on, that confused Midas a little. They held some deeper meaning that she could only guess at.

“Well I normally make deliveries to speakeasies west of here,” she said, trying to answer his question to the best of her knowledge. “I’m not really sure why they assigned me here tonight, if I’m honest.”

“So you’ve never been here before?” Dryden asked, still swirling his glass around. It was more of an extension of his arm than a drink to be consumed, Midas observed. He used it just as much as his other hand when he talked. It was a very Italian way of expressing oneself. There was no way he didn’t have some connection to the Mafia himself.

“No, never,” she confirmed. “Are you a regular?” Her turn to guess.

“You could say that,” he said, looking around at the building that enclosed them. “At least, I know all the regulars here, and they know me.” There were few people here now, being that it was so late, though a couple of people had arrived in the short time that she and Dryden had been talking. She noticed that everyone had glanced at her, her specifically, as they walked to the bar or to a table. A couple of the glances had seemed almost predatory, but then they’d shifted to look at Dryden and in the end, no one approached.

The way Dryden talked about himself was filled with flourish and embellishment, but when Midas listened closely, the man divulged little to no actual information about himself. She wasn’t sure how he did it, but by the time the conversation flipped back to her, she felt she had learned nothing about the man sitting with her.

“So tell me about you,” Dryden said, his dark green-brown eyes meeting hers. Midas felt incredibly nervous in that moment, though her intrigue and even her attraction to him kept her staring back.

“What about me?” she asked, leaning forward toward him and drinking a sip more of her moonshine. “You already know a good bit of myself, I gather.”

“No, I don’t care about your connections or your late-night deliveries. Tell me about  _ Midas _ . For example, what is it that you desire right now?”

Just then, all of her emotions mounted, and most forefront was her desire for and attraction to him _. _ Dryden intrigued her, perhaps more than she knew. She wanted to know everything about him, especially since he’d divulged nothing. And she especially wanted to know  _ him _ . She wanted to know his body, to touch him, as only she’d done with a man once before, and only briefly. She  _ especially _ wanted  _ him _ to touch  _ her _ . What did his hands feel like? What did his lips feel like? His eyes were locked with hers, and what would it feel like if he looked at her that way for the rest of time? What if those eyes were to see her nude, without all the shapewear she wore underneath, and the coats she wore over? She couldn’t know what he would think of her intimately, privately, away from the rest of the world, but she desperately wanted,  _ needed, _ to know.

And was he just playing with her, or did those deep, dark eyes contain some attraction and desire for her as well? Or was she just projecting her own feelings into what she saw? There was no way of telling. His eyes were unreadable; in fact, his whole face was. But he still wore that smirk. That smirk never left his face, as long as they’d been talking. 

“You…” was what finally ended up slipping from her lips, and Dryden’s smirk noticeably widened.

“Well, no sense in drawing this out then,” Dryden said matter-of-factly. He stood, setting his untouched glass onto the table and Midas followed suit, though finishing off her own moonshine. They each grabbed their respective jackets, and Dryden led Midas out the door and up the stairs into the brisk night air once more.

“Should we take my truck?” Midas asked, already shivering, wrapping her coat tightly about herself. But Dryden just chuckled.

“No, I’m only a couple of blocks down. It’s a short walk, and the cold will give us excuse to… warm up.” And he wasn’t kidding either. It really was a short walk, and as long as the wind stayed quiet, Midas could withstand the chill. But by the time they’d arrived at his small bungalow, she was grateful for the heat it brought.

His house, though small and only one story, was far larger and more spacious than her family’s tiny tenement on the other side of town. To have a standalone single-family home in the heart of Chicago, single story or not, showed off Dryden’s wealth, just like his suit had. Just how close were his connections to the mob?

Midas didn’t have time to consider such things though, for the moment that the door closed behind them, she had grabbed Dryden and pulled him close, kissing him softly on the lips. She felt him smile behind her kiss and reciprocate, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her into him. His lips and nose were cold, though they felt the same temperature as her own, but as soon as they’d parted their lips, allowing their tongues to meet, she could feel the stark difference in temperature.

Dryden’s hands explored her waist, hips, and back, and while Midas had some concerns that he’d judge the shapewear, she was far too engrossed in kissing the man to bring any of those concerns to light. The jackets quickly came off, both dropping to the floor. Midas’s hands went to Dryden’s already-loose tie, undoing it and then leaving that to start unbuttoning the vest and the shirt underneath. Dryden was attempting to draw up her dress, handful by handful of fabric. They both stumbled blindly deeper into the house. Midas trusted Dryden to lead them to his bedroom, and she followed his slow, distracted steps. The vest and shirt both fell as she pulled them off him, exposing his toned chest and arms. They had to separate briefly as Dryden pulled Midas’s dress over her head, and it fell to the ground to join the rest of the trail of clothing.

They parted when they finally found the door, both panting softly. Dryden led them inside the small bedroom, again closing the door behind them. It wasn’t extravagant by any means, but it was roomy and cozy.

Dryden wrapped his arms around her from behind, leaning down and putting his face into the crook of her neck. She glanced at him as he breathed in her scent, his arms tightening. He stayed there for several seconds longer than Midas had expected, unmoving, until he finally opened his mouth and slowly licked over her neck. She shivered and giggled nervously, unable to move with how tight his arms were.

“Are you going to eat me up?” she asked playfully, and finally his eyes glanced up to meet hers. She could have sworn she saw a red color swirl in his dark hazel eyes, but there was that smirk again.

“Maybe,” he growled back, his tone equally playful. His arms unwrapped themselves and his hands went to her back, her bra and then her girdle, as he slowly unhooked each fastener until they both came off and dropped to the floor. Once he had done so, he turned her around to face him, his eyes scanning up and down her exposed body, the smirk softening into a sweet, genuine smile.

“Beautiful…” he muttered, to her or to himself, or possibly to no one. Midas’s face flushed and she looked away. Dryden’s hands were on her again, running up and down her soft skin, fondling her breasts and her ass, scratching over her back lightly. He pulled her into him and kissed her once more.

Suddenly the need and desire that had brought them this far surfaced again, and Midas reciprocated Dryden’s kiss passionately. Her hands too explored his body, running over his pecs, shoulders, and back. Once she had touched all of his exposed skin, her hands darted to the front of his pants, which he quickly removed for her. He was already semi-erect, and she could very acutely feel him - all of him - when he pulled her against him to deepen and intensify the kiss.

His hands, in turn, pulled off her underwear and backed her slowly toward the bed as they kissed. She felt her calves hit the edge of the bed, and she sat, scrambling backwards onto it. Dryden slipped out of his underwear before climbing over her. His lips connected with hers once more and she wrapped her arms around him. He bit her lip with a seemingly very sharp canine before kissing down her jawline to her neck. Midas felt his hand reach down and guide his length into her as he licked and sucked her neck, breathing in her scent. She gasped and sighed as he filled her, her head falling backwards and her eyes fluttering shut. Oh, he felt so good…

Midas moaned loudly with each thrust as Dryden moved his hips back and forth. His face stayed buried in the crook of her neck, and she felt him lick and nip at her flesh when he wasn’t concentrating on his hips. She let her hands grip Dryden’s back, her fingernails digging into his skin slightly. After a nip at her neck, Dryden growled and increased his pace and intensity, his own fingers clutching the sheets beneath them. Midas just moaned, enjoying the force and the slight tinge of pain. Dryden seemed encouraged by her sounds, and he reached one hand up and gripped her hair with it, pulling her head back slightly more than it had been. Midas squeaked in surprise but her moans continued, earning her another nip and probably a hickey near her collarbone. She just clung to Dryden as if she would simply fall away if she let go.

Dryden, after a moment of hard thrusts, shifted his weight to the arm holding her hair, and wrapped his other hand around her neck before shifting some weight back and leaning it into her. His head came up and his dark eyes met hers, that smirk splitting his face as he watched her grow weaker, unable to moan anymore despite how good it felt. She stared up at him as well as she could as the corners of her vision started to get fuzzy and dark.

“You’re such a bad girl, tempting me as you have,” she heard him growl. She could feel throbbing in her neck and head as her eyes fluttered shut. “Now I won’t be able to hold back.” Midas felt herself getting close as he choked her and pulled her hair and thrusted deep inside her. Everything felt so good, but everything was too much. And right as she approached and then fell over that edge, plunging into orgasm, Dryden released his hand and then bit her neck, full force.

“Aaahh!!” she yelled, her back arching, her body tensing, as pain and pleasure came together as one. Dryden growled into his bite and Midas felt his back tense under her hands as he spilled his own orgasm into her. A wave of euphoria washed over Midas as her body relaxed. She felt her eyes flutter shut as she rode out the after-effects of her orgasm… and another feeling too. Dryden was still attached to her neck, and out of the corner of her attention, Midas could hear him swallowing. Swallowing? But everything felt too good still, like she could just drift off on a cloud and never return…

Midas was jolted back to the present when something opened her lips and a metallic taste filled her mouth. She drank the liquid by reflex - and then continued to drink it as more flowed in. It was perhaps the most delicious thing she’d ever tasted, and she felt her senses come back and back the more she drank. Instead of being lost in her little cloud drifting away, now Midas could hear every person and vehicle travel by Dryden’s house outside. She could hear electricity buzzing throughout the house. She could smell the sex hanging in the air and clinging to the sheets. She could smell each human - human? - in the surrounding buildings. And goodness, did they smell good…

When Midas opened her eyes, she could have sworn the eyes looking back from above her flashed red. Dryden wore a sly grin, showing off his long, sharp canines. They were stained red with blood - her blood - as was the rest of his mouth. He licked his lips and pulled his bleeding wrist from her mouth. She wasn’t done with that.

She scrambled into a sitting position as the hunger hit, her eyes jolting wide and her nostrils flaring. She ran her tongue over her newly sharpened canines as she scanned the room for traces of her clothing. Midas needed to find something - someone - to drink from, and  _ now. _ But Dryden’s hand landed square on her chest, pushing her back down and holding her there.

“Not so fast, love,” he crooned, still looking very pleased with himself. “All in due time. Let’s get you cleaned up first. You can’t go out like that.” Midas growled but stayed where she was, watching Dryden carefully as he walked to the bathroom and started the shower running. She didn’t know whether he meant nude or smelling of sex or covered in blood. Her tongue moved over her teeth again, and she eyed her clothes, debating leaving Dryden behind. But he reappeared before she could make the decision, holding a hand out. She took it and let him lead her to the bathroom and into the shower with him, and it was all she could do to keep the hunger from overwhelming her mind as Dryden cleaned himself and her of the fluids that covered and caked both of them.

The shower, coupled with Dryden’s hands gently cleaning her, was nice. Of course, by the time they’d finished, Midas was so starved that all she could think about was sinking her teeth into one of Dryden’s neighbors. But she allowed Dryden to dry her and then the two of them collected and donned their clothes before ducking out into the chilly night once more.

Dryden kept her from barging into one of the neighboring houses, opting instead to walk her down the street. They passed a couple of women dressed like hookers, ignoring eye contact with them.

“Dryden…” Midas started, but Dryden held up a hand to silence her.

“The ladies of the night have done nothing wrong,” he whispered harshly, so curtly that Midas was a little taken aback.

“They were outlawed about ten years ago by now,” she whispered back, softer. But Dryden didn’t respond, only dragged her along with him to the next street block, where a man was leaning against the back of the bus stop bench, smoking a cigarette and observing his surroundings. He stood up straight when they approached.

“Drug dealer,” Dryden whispered, his voice barely audible. “Should be human.” He pushed her toward him and she needed no further encouragement. She ran and jumped on him swiftly, like a wild animal pouncing on its prey. They hit the ground and her hand found his mouth as her teeth found his neck. Her newly sharpened fangs punctured through the skin and she started lapping up the blood that spilled out like she was eating her first meal in a week. She drank and drank, swallowing the hot, metallic liquid as quickly as it came out. She could stay here forever, enjoying and savoring the taste, how it coated her mouth and throat, how it felt like warm soup fresh off the stove as she swallowed more and more of it. The man had long since gone limp under her, but she kept her hand over his mouth, more because she wasn’t thinking about her hand placement as she continued to feed.

“Careful.” A low, chiding voice and a rough pull at her shoulder tore her away from the man’s neck. Midas looked at his face, but he looked to be sleeping now. Unconscious? She looked up at Dryden, who pulled at her shoulder again. His eyes flicked about their surroundings as she stood. “That’s enough, and besides, we have to get out of here.” His tone sounded impatient, and Midas could feel the agitation in the air surrounding them, though there was nothing in his face to suggest urgency. Midas looked back down at the supposed drug dealer. His chest was still rising and falling, though shallowly. She had satiated the hunger enough that she could think straight once again… Had she almost just killed a man?

Dryden yanked her along the way they’d come. “What… have you done to me...?” Midas demanded as she trotted alongside him. His pace had increased after she’d spoken. They passed the prostitutes again, and Midas caught the eye of one of them before she quickly looked away.

“I thought that would be almost painfully obvious at this point,” Dryden responded more quietly, though Midas heard a chuckle in his voice. “But keep your voice down, okay?” he scolded.

“Vampires…”

“Are very real, in case you haven’t already noticed,” he finished for her. They were now only a block down from Dryden’s cozy little home, but the wind was eating her alive. How had she not noticed the gale when they’d been going the other way? She wrapped her coat tighter and they both hurried back to the house, and once they got to the front door, they both climbed into the house like they wouldn’t have been able to enter had they been just a moment later. Both of them stood in front of the iron stove for a moment to heat up from the chilly wind before Dryden finally removed his coat and slipped into one of his dining room chairs, lighting a cigarette. Midas removed her coat as well but continued to stand in front of the stove, gradually warming up. She eyed Dryden as he smoked and leaned back against the back of the chair, putting his feet up on the neighboring chair. She was the first to break the silence.

“You’ve turned me into a vampire,” she stated flatly. Dryden looked up at her, that smirk climbing onto his face as he took a draw from his cigarette. His dark hazel eyes swirled with thoughts and emotions, or perhaps that was simply Midas’s own thoughts and emotions reflected back at her.

“Ever observant, my dear,” Dryden chuckled. “Though I suppose I should share some things with you before you get yourself burnt to a crisp trying to go back to your simple little human life in the daylight.” Midas shifted her weight to her other foot, crossing her arms.

“Yes, perhaps you should. ‘Burnt to a crisp?’” she inquired, her voice rising with incredulity. But Dryden just chuckled again, as if this were the most amusing thing in the world.

“No sunlight for you anymore, love,” he told her, his eyes keyed in on her. “Direct sun exposure will turn you right into a pile of ashes.” Midas felt her jaw set and her eyes narrow, but before she could interject, Dryden continued. “There’s also immortality, the need for blood - although you’ve already experienced that one - the increase in senses, strength, and speed, the powers…” His smirk grew. “Anything spark your interest, my beautiful student?” Her eyebrows furrowed.

“Immortality…?”

“You won’t ever die,” Dryden clarified, as if this should have been obvious. “You also heal from injuries more rapidly, although you’ll need a steady supply of blood to do so.” Midas walked over and grabbed Dryden’s cigarette from him. This was all so much. She took a long drag, inhaling the hot smoke, then exhaling. She felt the heat, saw the smoke, but the drug wasn’t taking effect. She took another drag, only for the same result.

“What’s wrong with your cigarettes?” she asked accusingly. Dryden laughed again as he took it back from her.

“You’re a vampire, love. You don’t get drug effects anymore.” He took a long drag from his cigarette, seemingly for effect. “Unless, of course, you drink blood with the drug in the bloodstream.” He turned back to her and grinned. “It’s an interesting way to get drunk.”

Midas sunk into the seat across from Dryden, her eyes focusing through the wooden table in front of her. “Powers…?” she inquired. The angry tone had all but disappeared now. Dryden turned to face her, leaning onto the table as he smoked.

“That’s up to you to figure out. Everyone’s different, just like humans. You might have some rare ability that only shows up one in a millenia, or you might just have the increases in strength and speed. Or you might be somewhere in between.” He shrugged, eyeing her as she processed. “Of course, you’ve already experienced at least one of my own abilities,” he mused and smirked. This brought her attention back to him. Her eyebrows furrowed again and her eyes narrowed.

“You used your powers on me!?” The anger was back, and Dryden’s disregard for it only made it grow.

“Well, I can’t exactly turn them off completely,” he explained, his eyes wandering a little, “so to an extent they’re used on everyone. At least, everyone with whom I purposefully interact.” Midas scrutinized Dryden before looking back at the table.

“Why would you do this to me?” Her voice was now barely more than a whisper. Were her emotions always this unstable?

“Let’s be honest, my dear, you are a  _ fine _ piece, and we had a lot of fun, did we not?” Dryden chuckled again, finishing off his cigarette and extinguishing it in the ashtray beside him. “How could I withstand such a temptation?” And Midas couldn’t help but agree. She did have a lot of fun, and Dryden seemed to be able to read her like a book, especially when they were in bed together. Not that she’d had a lot, but it  _ was  _ the best sex she’d had. But that didn’t change that she’d almost just killed a man because of how good Dryden had felt having sex with her…

Midas stood up, swallowing hard and grabbing her coat. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Dryden sit up straighter and raise an eyebrow. Midas donned her coat and made for the door, pausing before she reached it.

“I have to go. Thank you for the sex and the… meal…” She felt her emotions well up in her throat, and try as she might, she couldn’t swallow them back down. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes. “G-goodnight, Dryden.” And then as she opened the door, her emotions - all of the fear and anger and despair - all drifted away as if the cold Chicago wind took them from her like a handkerchief she’d failed to hold onto.

“Why don’t you close the door, love? You’re letting all the heat out,” said the calm, smooth voice behind her. She obeyed, because it really was quite brisk, and looked back at Dryden. Then she felt the fear and anger and hurt, though it was primarily fear, well up in her throat and chest once more. Her chest heaved and the tears that had just threatened a second ago spilled over this time. Her eyebrows furrowed as the emotions died off once more and she realized what was happening.

“Did you figure it out, my gorgeous Midas?” Dryden asked with a smirk, his hand toying with the cigarette box.

“Stop it,” she said softly, her voice quiet with embarrassment. “Why are you making me feel these things?” Dryden stood, making his way to her and wrapping her in his jacket, which was now warm from being near the stove.

“Oh my dear, I don’t  _ make _ you feel anything. I only bring out what you’re already feeling. Now come, perhaps you’ll feel better after some rest.” Dryden led her back to the bedroom, and she let him.

Once more, Dryden undressed Midas, but gentler and with less urgency. Once her outerwear and her shapewear was all once more laying on the ground, Dryden paused to look her over. He smiled - not the smirk he usually wore but a simple, gentle smile.

“I chose wisely, didn’t I?” he said, probably more to himself than to her. He gave a soft chuckle before guiding her to the bed. She said nothing as he tucked her in, her eyes staring off into nothing. Maybe this was all just a dream that would vanish as soon as she woke up from her little nap…

“I’ll do the hunting tomorrow night, for the both of us, okay, love?” Dryden kissed her softly, and she reciprocated. She still didn’t respond. Tomorrow night… Would she still be here? Everything was just so much…

And as Dryden closed the door, Midas drifted off, dreaming of a vampire prostitute in a beautiful red dress with her curly hair done up, beckoning her over and taking her hand.

**Author's Note:**

> This is the beginning of many, many stories involving my star character, Midas Well, known up until the 1950s as Midas Lombardo, her harmonies and clashes with Dryden, the vampire that turned her and her longtime partner, and her various adventures for the next 100 years. I hope you will enjoy these short stories, and I hope you will also grow to love these characters as well! Please be sure to let me know what you think!


End file.
